A Jester's Court
by SeeJaye
Summary: Entrenched in the Dark Lord's inner circle, the Court Jester is always in the shadows; Voldemort's most trusted. The Jester is not as tamed as the Dark Lord would like to think; however, and when two prisoners are brought in to be sold off as slaves, Jester takes this as an opportunity to start turning the Dark Lord's regime inside out. Every-Cliche-In-The-Books-And-More!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note is super important. Read it, please.**

Ever just stare at all of the clichéd ideas floating around the Harry Potter fandom and just go: "I don't know which one to pick!" Welp, I've decided that I would pick all of them. Or, at least, all of the ones that I like. So, welcome to my super mash-up-of-everything-that-I-like fanfiction! For those of you who would like to know, here's what I'm planning on including in this story:

-Fem!Harry

-Harry (who is Harriet) has a sibling

-Voldemort-is-the-winner-and-kind-of-destroys-all- things-good-and-glorious

-Time travel

-Harry goes to a different school

-Harry joins Voldemort

-Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived

-Dark/Gray!Harry

-Creature!Harry

-Friend-to-the-magical-beings!Harry

-Intelligent/cunning/recourseful!Harry

-(kind of)Superpowered!Harry

Yup. It's all going to fit in, I promise. That being said, you won't see some of it for a while, so don't be demanding it all at once, now. That would be truly impossible. Just, let me get to it and hopefully you won't be too disappointed. That all being said, **if you want to see something or have an idea for a 'cliché' that you want to see that isn't on the list, go ahead and let me know!** I'm always up for hearing new ideas(…just remember who the author is).

The only thing: not planning romance at this point. That one is one cliché I'm not sure how to add right now, with all of my characters too shallow and undeveloped for me to get a good grasp on them. I'll let you know if I decide something different later.

**Still important, keep reading**: This is for NaNoWriMo. If you guys want me to stick with it, I really need all of your support and reviews! Annd, since this is NaNoWriMo, I'm pretty much making a lot of it up as I go (kind of unavoidable), so I really am super open to ideas about what you like, don't like, what would be cool to see, etc.

Please guys, support would be awesome. And validation. **I'm a slave for validation.**

Alright, and I think that that's all anyone will really need… off we go!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own, I'm making no money, just for fun.

A Jester's Court

Chapter One

A deep, malicious chuckle slinked through the room, caressing the many figures kneeling on the floor, "My dearest followers," a resonating baritone voice followed the laugh, smooth and seductive, "my most faithful." The imposing man speaking spread his arms, the black silk robes incasing his body glinting in the light, "Welcome."

A shadowed figure in the corner immediately to the left and behind the speaker shifted slightly, watching with detached amusement as the group of about 40 witches and wizards scattered on their knees before the Dark Lord shivered, bowing closer to the floor, "Master," they chorused together, the standard response.

The Dark Lord smiled a handsome smile, perfect white teeth shining, dark brown hair elegantly coifed. He was in his element, the figure mused, parading in front of his most devout followers –powerful witches and wizards in their own right- kneeling prostate on the floor before him. A power rush if there ever was one, the figure thought.

"Yes, yes, welcome," the Dark Lord continued, lowering his hands and taking a step back on the raised platform he stood on before his followers. "We have a very special treat today, my faithful. Demetri."

Unnoticed in the corner, the shadowed figure shifted slightly, tensing already tense shoulders and grasping their wand in a surer grip. It wasn't often that the Dark Lord brought something up in these meetings that they weren't already privy to, but it seemed that today would be one of those days.

Demetri, one of the kneeling, cloaked figures before the lord bowed closer to the ground before standing and lowering his hood, dispelling the charm to cast his face in shadows and revealing a sharp, handsome face half covered by a plain silver mask, "My Lord," his voice was reverent as he bowed again before taking one step forward, "the mission you sent me on was a success, my Lord."

"Yesss," the 's' dragged on, as the Dark Lord took another step back, gracefully taking a seat on his majestic thrown, centered directly in the middle of the raised dais, its back touching the back wall of the chamber. "Bring them in," he commanded, a tendril of his dark magic following his words to lick at Demetri's body, encasing the man in his Lord's command.

The Death Eater didn't even bother to verbally respond, just bowed again and turned sharply on his heel, walking swiftly to the door on the left wall in the room. The figure shifted once more in the shadows, piercing eyes never leaving the door as they waited for Demetri and whoever he was retrieving to come back.

A stifling silence descended on the room, the stiff group of people on the floor all fidgeting together as they strained to get a good look at the door, their Lord smiling benevolently down on them while, with one figure, he summoned the figure in the corner and cast a strong notice-me-not charm over the dais.

The figure immediately melted from the shadows, walking with a quick grace toward the Lord before kneeling next to the imposing throne, "My Lord," the words came out breathless, reverent and nearly silent.

A pale white hand rose from the Lord's lap to pet lightly at the figure's hooded head, "You are tense today, my favorite."

"I am always tense, my Lord," the figure paused, considering the dark marble floor and leather incased knees for a moment before continuing, "I do not like surprises," came the conclusion with a bowed head to show further apology.

"No," the Dark Lord chuckled, caressing the kneeling figure's head again; "I imagine well that you don't. Worry not, my Jester, this is not a bad surprise, and no one would dare try and harm me here, with my most faithful surrounding me and my most powerful wards around me. Relax and enjoy my surprise."

The figure cautiously leaned into the Dark Lord's petting hand, closing unseen eyes, "As my Lord wills it," forcibly tensed shoulders relaxed and a sigh escaped, muffled, from the mask.

The Dark Lord chuckled again, giving once last, fond pet to the figure's head before removing his hand and turning his attention back to his eagerly waiting followers. Taking the clear dismissal as it was, the figure rose gracefully and slinked back to the corner, dispelling the notice-me-not-charm as they went. Once again taking a position facing the vast hall, body tense and eyes searching for hidden threats, the figure strived not to look too noticeably tensed. No need to incur the Lord's disfavor by not following a simple command, after all.

Another tension filled moment passed in the hall, the kneeling crowd slowly becoming bored with waiting, half frowns barely seen below shadows and masks. They did not have to wait much longer, though, as just a moment later the door on the side wall banged open, making half of the figures jump in surprise.

Walking first through the door was not, as most of the hall expected, Demetri, but a women with glowing, fiery red hair and pale, bruised skin. And she did not walk in so much as she stumbled in, falling to her knees before the crowd with a pained gasp.

"You rat-faced bastard!" Burst out behind her as a man was pushed through the door, but he managed to remain on his feet, and looked to be about to turn and throw more words at the last man entering the door –Demetri- when he caught sight of the large hall filled with cloaked, kneeling figures and, most importantly, the man sitting casually on the throne in front of the room.

"Voldemort," he hissed, clenching his hands into fists at his side as he shot a poisonous stare up at the Lord. A collective flinch ran through the hall, wide eyes turning to look at their master for his response.

"I am glad to see that they are largely unharmed and unbroken, Demetri," the Dark Lord complimented, ignoring the seething man and his followers.

"It was as you commanded, my Lord."

The Dark Lord hummed in pleasure, smiling down at his follower, "And you did very well following my commands, you shall be rewarded."

"Thank you, my Lord." Demetri bowed low and was immediately shoved over by his enraged captive, toppling to the floor with a yell of surprise.

Before the felled wizard could do more than turn and glare at the heaving prisoner, the Dark Lord was on his feet and a spell rapidly descended on the wizard, sending him to the floor with a scream of pain, his back arching and his limbs twisting as he sought to escape the Dark Lord's spell.

"Perhaps," the Dark Lord purred, a look of wry amusement on his handsome face, "I spoke too soon, Demetri." The man on the floor continued to scream and by now the women was sobbing as she tried to hold his spasming limbs down.

"My-my Lord!" Demetri sputtered, raising to his feet only to be pushed down to his knees by a blast of his Lord's wandless magic, his prisoner still under the effects of the Lord's spell next to him.

"Back to your place, Demetri." It was a command that the kneeling, red faced Death Eater immediately scrambled to follow, trying to ignore his fellow Death Eater's mocking glances and hisses.

"Now," the Dark Lord continued, turning thoughtful eyes to his prisoners, "don't loiter by the door, my friends. Come in." The mocking words were followed by a wave of magic that picked up the still screaming man and sobbing women, floating them over the heads of the snickering Death Eaters and depositing them right in front of the steps leading up to the dais.

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully before waving his wand, finally releasing the spell on the man and magically wrangling the two figures onto their knees, facing the crowd of cloaked followers. "Let me introduce you to my honored guests," the Lord gestured grandly, conjuring two magnificent red robes that his magic draped over his 'guests.' "First we have the Lord James Potter, head of the Potter family, and his most… precocious mudblood wife, Lily Potter. Welcome."

A wave of laughter took over the room as the kneeling Death Eaters finally rose to their feet at their Lord's signal, jeering at the couple before them. The Dark Lord allowed the laughs and calls to continue for a moment before his magic swept out, silencing his followers.

"A most grand welcome, indeed, my friends. Now," the Lord glided down the steps until he was next to the two prostate figures, "do stop crying Mrs. Potter," he mockingly consoled, patting the red-haired women on the head, ignoring her shaking husband as he spat a curse. "I am not a man to hold grudges, I will not hurt you," he crooned, "but I am ever so glad that the guilt of trying to stand against me has so overcome you. I accept your tears as your apology."

More laughter.

"No," the Dark Lord turned grandly toward his followers, sweeping his hands out, "I will not hurt them. But they must be taught their proper place, mustn't they?" The crowd cheered, cloaked figures throwing half masked jeers toward the bound couple.

"Yes, I agree. And what better way to teach those who need teaching than indenturing them to one of you, my faithful followers?" The Dark Lord's charismatic voice easily rose above the exuberant cheering, a benevolent smile on his face. The cheers grew in volume. "I will not force such a thing upon you however, I would; rather, ask for volunteers." His magic swept out again and silenced the group, his dark, raging power forcing them to keep quiet.

"Maybe," he mused, thoughtfully looking over his followers, "a competition for the honor of teaching what must be taught? A dueling competition, amongst my most successful. A grand competition for a grand honor."

The magic forcing them silent left the Death Eaters, and many turned eager eyes to each other, gruesome smiles twisting lips and anticipation rising. Dueling was the main way to rise in rank in the Dark Lord's circle, and the opportunity to do so was never passed up. Before any could speak; however, a figure stepped out of the shadows encasing the back corner of the platform.

The figure, known as the Court Jester –with their infamous full face bone white mask, its thin lips stretched into a grotesque smile and its nose looming and pointed- slowly glided down the stairs, crossing the room before deftly kneeling before their Lord. Stunned whispers broke out through the room as the Jester waited to be acknowledged, head lowered subserviently and unseen eyes ravenously flickering over the two kneeling figures next to their lord.

"Jester…" the Dark Lord's pleased voice hissed out, "How rarely do you slink out of your shadows uninvited. This is truly a momentous occasion."

"My Lord," Jester whispered.

The Dark Lord studied his favorite follower at his feet, cold eyes roving the figure as a mocking smile twisted his lips, "Are you volunteering, Jester? Would you take the blood traitors under your wing, even with your time consuming duties? Is that why you kneel at my feet?"

The Dark Lord's voice rushed over the kneeling figure, causing hairs to stand on end and a slight chill to rack their spine, "If my Lord pleases, I would volunteer."

Rich laughter followed the softly spoken proclamation, "My dearest Court Jester, you have no idea how much it pleases me. Rise."

As the figure obediently rose, the Lord turned toward his followers, "And how this grand occasion just gets grander!" he exclaimed, one hand coming up to turn Jester toward his followers, "It has been many years since my Jester has deigned to participate in the ranking duels. Indeed, not since they rose to their place as my favored has Jester faced off against any of you. What a momentous occasion indeed!"

The crowd of Death Eaters cheered, blood thirsty eyes that peeked through masks staying on the silent figure at the Dark Lord's side.

The Dark Lord observed the riotous crowd for a moment before continuing, his hand tightening on the Jester's shoulder. "Of course I would not waste such an opportunity on the poorly prepared," he purred, his dark magic once again settling his followers, "only those with a black mask, I think, will be allowed to challenge our Court Jester." Complaints could be heard from the majority of the room, but those closest to the Lord, those of his innermost circle –set apart from the rest with their black, half masks- gleefully stepped forward.

This would not be an opportunity wasted.

The Jester was young and had risen through the ranks quickly, participating in all of the ranking duels since being welcomed into the Death Eaters. And with each ranking match, they had advanced, taking on harder missions and gaining more trust and attention from the Dark Lord. This continued for three years, the Jester –the name the Dark Lord had picked out upon imitation into the Death Eaters- beating everyone they went up against soundly, not struggling until they had reached the inner circle of black-masks. Even then, though, the trend of soundly beating their opponent continued, some black-masks falling embarrassingly easy.

Finally, at the beginning of their fourth year as a Death Eater, the Dark Lord himself dueled against Jester. Who was soundly beaten. Instead of being punished like the other Death Eaters had expected, however, Jester had been presented with the white mask that was now infamous amongst Death Eater ranks and had been given a position above even the vaunted black-masks, being appointed to stand guard at their Lord's back and advise at his side.

Ever since, the Death Eater's, and especially the black-masks, had been waiting for another chance at Jester, and now, three years later, they finally had that chance.

"Yesss," the Dark Lord hissed out, smug eyes examining his Death Eaters. "The duel will commence as all ranking duels are. Today we will fight with the Mudblood as your prize. Tomorrow the prize will be the dear Lord Potter." The Dark Lord gestured to the two people still magically bound to their knees beside him. At this point Lord Potter seemed to have gotten over the lingering pain from the Dark Lord's curse and had started struggling against his invisible bounds. His face was red and his lips were moving, but no sound could be heard. Silencing spells as well, then. Beside him, the Lady Potter had stopped crying and was staring down at her pale hands clenched on her lap, bright red hair sticking to her wet cheeks.

"If any of you manage to win at the end of the second day, you will immediately be given the Jester's white mask and they will take your black one. Otherwise, you will either keep your rank or will be demoted, depending on how you do," the Dark Lord smirked at his followers as he squeezed his Jester's shoulder harshly. He would not be pleased if they failed. "Standard procedure, really."

Pleased, anticipatory grins spread across the black masked Death Eater's faces, and almost as one they spoke: "Yes, Master."

* * *

A big shout out to my most lovely beta reader: **KumikoPyon**. She is my goddess and is amazing and smart and talented and I would be very far from here without her.

That being said, sometimes I change things after she looks at them, so there still might be mistakes. That's my bad.

Remember:** Validation! Support! Ideas!** It can be our motto, m'kay?


	2. Chapter 2

The newest clichés that are going to be included in this story:

-Family!Voldemort

-Reincarnated/resurrected/some-how-involved!Founde rs

Once again, don't try and ask how these are going to be incorporated, it's a surprise. You're welcome to guess, though! My ideas involving all of these clichés are, in my humble opinion, truly original for the most part, and I doubt you'll be able to see some of them coming.

And before we start, a huge thanks to my two reviewers: **koryandrs** and **Safee**. They're great and wonderful and lovely, and this chapter is dedicated to them!

* * *

A Jester's Court

Chapter Two

"_You don't have to do this, you know."_

"_I know."_

"_It's not even needed. A wasted effort, really."_

"_Don't be delusional; of course it's not a waste."_

"_It's completely a waste."_

"_Is not."_

"_Is so."_

"_Not."_

"_So."_

"_Not."_

"_We're not five."_

"_You started it."_

"_That's not helping."_

"_I'm not trying to help. And it's not a waste. And I don't have to do this, but I was asked to. So I will. I am. Doing this. It's going to be done."_

"…_Is so a waste."_

"_Now who's the one not helping?"_

"_Why you?"_

"_Because none of you could survive being amongst the Death Eaters."_

…

"_Yes we could."_

…

"_I know."_

"_You'll report in?"_

"_Every day, if it makes you feel better."_

"_I'd feel better if you weren't going."_

"_Ah, you going soft?"_

"_Just going to miss my beat-up-buddy."_

"_You mean that you're going to miss getting beat up? Michael already said that he'd take care of that for me."_

"_Wha- Michael? He's going to pulverize me!"_

"_You shouldn't have tried to shave Trix, then. You know how easily Michael gives in to her whining."_

"_That damn cat ate my paperwork! She deserved what she got!"_

"…_Did you really just use the 'my dog ate my homework' excuse?"_

"_It was a cat, not a dog! And it was paperwork, not homework! And you're damn right I did! Because she did!"_

"_You're pathetic."_

"_Not as pathetic as you're going to be. I hear he makes people grovel on their knees and kiss his robes. Now that, my friend, is pathetic."_

"…_I'll figure something out."_

"_Whatever."_

Jester gave herself one small moment to panic as she stared back into the bloodthirsty eyes before her. To let that heady 'I-can't-do-this-what-am-I-doing-I'm-going-to-die- or-get-maimed-or-raped-and-pain-I-hate-pain-and-fi ghting-what-I-don't-want-to-do-this-what-is-going- on-please-somebody-save-me-please-please-pleaseple aseplease_pleaseplease_' feeling wash through her body. She let it stick to her bones and her throat and fingers and toes, she let it completely darken her vision and fill her nostrils and ring in her ears. For one moment, it was all she knew. Panic. Fear. Powerlessness.

But only for a moment.

And then she tightened her control, lips twitching into an answering grin unseen behind her bone white mask, eyes narrowing and creasing as she slowly, mockingly bowed to her challengers, "I look forward to the… challenge." Her voice was as soft as it usually was, but a push of magic –voice magic- allowed it to be as if she was whispering directly into each of the black-masked Death Eater's ears. "Truly."

Cruel laughter rang from the Dark Lord, his smile pleased and his eyes just as bloodthirsty, "My most dear followers," he addressed his congregation as Jester straightened, "do you know why Jester has their name?" he paused for effect, twisted grin widening, "because they have this flair for the dramatic that is just, oh so entertaining. A true Court Jester, performing for their King."

The Death Eater's shifted, fidgeting and not knowing how to respond. Some had heard that before –those that had initiated at the same time as the Jester- and others hadn't, but the anticipation had risen to the point that even those who had been curious about the name –only a small few were allowed to keep their identities secret and received a name from their Lord- shoved the small satisfaction of mystery-solved away, eagerly waiting to move on to the duels.

"But names are not what we are here for, is it?" The Dark Lord truly knew how to play to a crowd, drawing out anticipation for the event, keeping all attention firmly on him. A being meant for the spotlight. "Who would step forward as the first challenger?"

The black-masked Death Eaters looked amongst themselves, making eye contact and shaking or nodding heads. The most powerful and successful would wait for the end of either the first round or the second round of dueling, when the Jester was at her weakest. The less powerful were trying to push for later times, when they were more likely to get lucky than the first few would be.

"I grow impatient." The Dark Lord's power rushed through the Dark Mark, igniting nerves on fire, causing many in the room to let out sharp yells and clasp their left forearms tightly to their chests, "Pick, or I shall pick for you."

Another quick round of eye-tag before a small woman stepped forward, bowing low before he Lord before straightening and lowering her hood, "I will go first, m'Lord."

Amy Cabrera, Jester noted. Arguably the weakest amongst the black-masked members, but only when taking into account her dueling abilities. Cabrera was a healer, a very talented, very powerful healer who spent most of their time testing her own version of twisted healing spells on the Dark Lord's less important prisoners. A sadist in the truest sense.

Cabrera would by tricky, Jester knew, if only because half of the spells in her repertoire –being twisted, painful versions of healing spells- would be irreversible, and the other half would sail straight through shield spells. However, tricky or not, Amy Cabrera was someone Jester had already beaten, and while her spells were inventive, she was a slow caster and an even slower mover. Unless she got in a lucky hit, she was not a black-mask that Jester was worried about.

A dark rush of power interrupted Jester's thoughts and she immediately turned her attention back to the Dark Lord.

"Everyone back against the wall," the command licked at everyone's Dark Marks, forcing the group to quickly comply, sending the usually dignified witches and wizards into a scrabble as they bumped and prodded at each other on their way to the back of the room as Jester simply scooted off to the side wall.

Once the space in front of him was cleared, Voldemort raised his wand and started flicking it about, a string of soft words coming from his mouth in smooth, practiced Latin. The magic he was directing started to form into a dome around the middle of the room, first turning a deep red before settling into a soft, translucent green.

"Duelers, place your wands against the wards," he directed. Jester and Cabrera both stepped forward, extending their wands until just the tips touched where the wards ended. The Dark Lord once again took up a hissing chant, waving his wand more emphatically now.

Jester felt the wards reach out and slowly draw some magic from her, tasting her signature and enveloping it into its own magics, turning what was immediately in front of her a dark purple. On the other side of the dome, where Cabrera had touched her wand to the wards, a light mauve color was spreading. Slowly the two colors took over the green until the whole dome was a mix of the two purples swirling around each other.

"Step through," the Dark Lord once again directed, and Jester immediately took a step forward, enjoying the rush of magic across her skin. The wards gave one last purple flicker before disappearing completely. They were now tuned in to her and Cabrera's magical signature, and would not let them, or any of their magic leave the dome while they were up. Jester wasn't sure if this type of ward had a name, she simply knew them as standard dueling wards.

"On my mark, you will begin," Voldemort called as he reclaimed his throne. Jester immediately turned all of her attention toward the witch standing opposite her, clasping her wand more firmly in her hand and bending her knees slightly, ready to spring away at the first sign of a spell.

A tense moment followed as the two witches held eye contact, and Jester's lips turned into a grim line, waiting, waiting, waiting –BANG.

The loud sound announced the beginning, and immediately Cabrera sent a spell careening toward where her opponent stood.

Or, where she was standing a second earlier.

Jester was immediately on the move, dodging the first spell and letting it splash harmlessly on the wards behind her as she sprang forward, crowding into the other witch and firing a point blank stunner at her face. The shorter, black-masked witch barely managed to dodge, throwing herself recklessly on the ground.

Spells followed the witch as she rolled, all of them the rich red indicating a stunner, and each was just barely dodged. Jester laughed slightly, firing off another spell as Cabrera tried to climb to her feet and shoot off a spell at the same time, which was easily dodged with a tilt of her head. She kept advancing on the scrabbling witch, forcing her closer and closer to the wards around them.

The plan was simple: let the wards to the work for her. Jester kept up her barrage of spells, pushing Cabrera further and further back, cutting off all attempts to dodge to the side with quickly formed bursts of wind, pushing, pushing, pushing.

Finally, as Cabrera wildly dodged another stunner, she stumbled back into the wards. The effect was immediate. The wards came to life with a bright flare of mauve and immediately lynched onto the struggling witch.

The standard dueling wards were pretty simple in idea: while one person was creating the ward, the people who would be dueling touched their wands to the wards and allowed it to sample their magic, upon which they immediately entered the wards. After that, if one of them fired a spell at the wards, the magic from the spell would be used to strengthen the wards. That strength would only be used if the wards were touched by one of the two inside the dome, wherein the wards would attach to the person or persons touching them and suck in their magical energy until the person (or persons) was rendered unconscious.

And this is exactly what the wards did to Amy Cabrera as Jester watch on, triumphant. The black-masked witch struggled, arms twisting feebly as she tried to escape the ward's grasp, but it was no use, and soon the witch slumped against the ground, unconscious.

"And our first winner, my Court Jester," Voldemort exclaimed as Jester took a moment to calm slightly, stretching her arms above her head and jumping on her toes.

"Who will be next?" she heard the Dark Lord ask, and Jester sighed, lowering her arms and relaxing onto the balls of her feet again.

It was going to be a long day.

"I'll go next," a silky voice drawled. Jester knew that voice immediately. Hell, the whole of the wizarding world knew that voice. Lucius Malfoy. As the blond Death Eater stepped forward he pulled down his hood and through the holes of their masks, their eyes met, his blue clashing with her green.

Lucius Malfoy was not someone Jester had been expecting to face until the end of the day –he was the type to try and kick the downed, the bastard- for him to step forward now, when she wasn't even winded… what were the black-masks planning?

It was definitely going to be a long day.

The Dark Lord, after wiping the wards clean of her signature, had a house elf take Amy Cabrera from the domed ward and directed Malfoy to step forward and place his wand against the wards, repeating the processes from before and bidding the blond to enter the dome after they flashed silver –the color of Malfoy's magical signature.

"On my mark," he repeated. Jester once again prepared herself, watching her opponent and ready to move as soon as the signal was given.

BANG!

Once again Jester found herself rolling out of the way of a spell. This time, though, her opponent kept their spells coming, following her as she dodged. Smart. But there was no way that she was going to allow Lucius Malfoy, of all people, to get the best of her.

Dodging another spell, Jester observed her opponent. He was now standing almost directly in the middle of the ward dome, feet planted firmly and wand constantly sending a torrent of low to medium level offensive spells –things like stunners, bone-breakers, reductos- toward her. Spells that took an opponent down, but didn't take much energy to cast and could therefore be cast over and over again with minimal effect.

Typical Death Eater strategy, then: stand firmly in the center of attention, try and look impressive while doing so, fire off as many spells as you can, hope that one hits. Really not the most impressive strategy Jester had gone up against, but certainly cleverer than whatever Cabrera's strategy had been.

Jester allowed all of these thoughts to run through her head as she ducked and dodged the onslaught of spells coming her way, keeping her eyes firmly on her opponent, waiting for something to change, waiting for Malfoy to give something away. Because, for all that this was typical Death Eater strategy, this was not Lucius Malfoy's typical strategy, and she needed to know what was going on before she proceeded.

Never attack without the advantage, if it can be helped. She had learned that a long time ago. Luckily for her, Lucius Malfoy was not the patient sort, and he quickly proved it.

"Not going to attack, Jester?" he drawled, his wand still moving and casting. Nonverbal spells while holding a conversation; Jester was slightly impressed until she noticed that the power in his spells had reduced drastically.

Nonverbal spells were hard to cast: the concentration the wizard or witch needing to pay to the spell increasing tenfold without the words to aid their magic. To hold a conversation and still pay that increase of concentration to their spell really was an impressive feat. But Lucius Malfoy, while trying to show off, really just proved that he didn't have the skill for multitasking while casting nonverbally, not if his power output had reduced. It meant that his concentration was more on the conversation than his spell, and so some of the magic meant for his spell was being wasted in his words –words which weren't part of a spell's incantation, which meant that the magic just leaked from him, like water would through a hole in a pipe.

Jester smiled behind her mask as she continued to dodge spells. It seemed that she wouldn't need to risk attacking at a disadvantage if she could just keep Malfoy focused on words, because the more he focused on one of them talking, the more he would –hopefully- pay attention to the conversation. And the more he paid attention to the conversation, the more magic he wasted. The more magic he wasted, the quicker he would run out of energy. Perfect.

"Probably not, Malfoy. It seems that the more I attack, the quicker the duel ends, and that just seems boring, doesn't it?" Jester winced at how… well, lame that had sounded. She wasn't usually one to talk in the middle of duels, but needs must. "So I'll just, you know, give you a head start, so to speak. If you don't mind."

Unlike with Malfoy, Jester's spell power remained constant as she talked: never overpowered (more magic than required was just as much a waste as leaking power –like trying to add more water to a cup that was already full) or underpowered. Just pure, practiced consistency. She was rather proud of that, really.

"You don't mind, do you?" she continued, noticing that his spell's power decreased even more as he angered, the visible part of his cheeks turning an outraged red, "It's just, I know you care about weird things sometimes."

"You bitch," he hissed, eyes narrowed behind his mask. As she continued to dodge less and less powerful spells, Jester dared a quick glance at the Dark Lord passed the wards. He was lounged on his throne, chin curled in hand and a lazy smirk on his face. Good, if he had looked annoyed or bored she would have had to switch methods.

"Not very eloquent, Malfoy," she huffed, finally sending her first spell at the man. It was a version of the stinging jinx, a spell commonly used by wizarding tutors when their pupils misspoke or didn't meet expectations. Not powerful or a help in any duel, but certainly an insult.

And Malfoy was definitely insulted. The pureblood quickly abandoned his nonverbal spells and began muttering incantations under his breath as darker and more painful spells left his wand. Cruicatus curses, blood boiling hexes, disemboweling curses, severing curses, all raced toward her intermixed with powerful bludgeoning curses that tore up the stone floor of the hall and sent massive stone projectiles everywhere, some hitting the wards and bounding back the opposite direction.

Jester quickly cast a shield that would hold against physical objects as she furiously dodged the barrage of spells coming toward her. These spells were definitely all higher level spells, each one costing the caster a significant amount of energy. Good, the duel was progressing, then.

"Now, now, Lord Malfoy," she mocked, letting her shield spell drop as the last of the stone projectiles settled, and with a quick wave of her wand and a widespread 'repairo' she fixed the floor, eliminating obstacles that could have tripped her up, "that was quite unbecoming of someone of your station." For good measure she also sent another stinging jinx at him. This one was easily batted away, but the message was there.

Malfoy didn't seem to get any more incensed from her words or spell, which was a bit disappointing, but Jester really wasn't good at taunting her opponents and she didn't really need him to get angrier, she just need him to _stay _angry.

"You're pathetic, Jester," the Malfoy Lord hissed, "You're nothing! You've spent too long being complacent, and you won't make it out of these duels with your mask, I can promise you that."

That was… worrying, actually. Because, intertwined with the fact that she was facing Malfoy far sooner that she would have guessed (and she didn't usually guess wrong) and now his taunts and smug eyes and he was _calming down_ as he said it, meant that she really was missing something. Somewhere along the way, the black-masks had come up with a plan that she couldn't predict. A plan that Malfoy was completely confident in, but wasn't taking credit for.

Jester shook the worry off, though. Now was not the time for worry, and plan or no plan, she would not lose to any pathetic black-masked Death Eater. Not with what was on the line. Her eyes cut to the kneeling figures in front of the Dark Lord's platform, just outside of the domed ward. Definitely not with what was on the line.

So Jester continued to taunt the blond Death Eater, trying to rile the pureblood back up, to make him lose his concentration.

It didn't work.

Her opponent had calmed, and it would take more than her subpar taunting to bring him back up. Which was fine, really. Jester felt a bit silly trying to talk that way, anyway. Time to try something new.

Slowly she started to twirl her wand in an intricate swirl as she continued to dodge the streams of bright light speeding toward her. A steady dark purple started to glint off the tip of her wand, and as she moved in a loose circle around her opponent, the purple from her wand reached out connected to the silver in the wards, resulting in long, thin purple strands that connected her wand to multiple points on the domed ward.

As she continued to circle and dodge spells, the twining strings tangled together until she appeared to be on the edge of a poorly made spider's web with Lucius Malfoy trapped in the middle of her little configuration. Then, she stopped moving and _tugged_. The result was immediate, as her purple strings of magic started sucking the silver magic –Lucius' magic- from the wards and toward her wand, the purple retreating as the silver took its place.

The dueling ward was a complex bit of magic, capable of taking energy from whoever's magical signature it held –as seen with Amy Cabrera's unfortunate duel. However, the wards never completely integrated or even mixed with the magical signatures added to it, which was why one signature could be wiped and another added when a duel was over.

And this was exactly what Jester took advantage of with her little lopsided, globby mess of strings. She had used the spell meant to wipe the signature, but instead of letting the spell completely leave her wand, she had stretched it into a long, thin string until it had touched Malfoy's magical signature. Once the signature wiping spell had touched, the spell drew Malfoy's magic from the ward and into her little strings, however, since she hadn't disconnected the spell from her wand, and hadn't completely drawn Lucius' magic from the wards, the wards had followed the signature into her little strings, creating one huge obstacle course of wards across the dome attuned specifically to Malfoy's signature.

Jester allowed a smug smile to pull at her lips as she stared across at the gob smacked wizard, who was staring around himself with wide eyes, noticeable even with his mask. If she really had been someone who talked a lot during duels, Jester would have warned the wizard to watch his step, or something equally cliché and redundant, but she just wasn't that type of dueler, so instead she simply raised her hand and let off a wandless blast of high velocity wind, sending the distracted wizard off his feet and onto her web of wards.

Immediately the wards reacted as they had with Cabrera, latching onto the struggling wizard and sucking in his energy until he was nothing but an unconscious pest, caught in the spider's web. Jester quickly canceled her spell and strings and the dueling ward snapped back into place, leaving Malfoy's body to fall to the ground.

After staring at Malfoy's body for a moment, the surge of adrenaline in her system calming down slightly, Jester slowly became aware of the pervasive silence that had taken over the room. She looked up and, through the ward, staring back at the eyes on her, raising an unseen eyebrow at the crowd.

"I- is that- I didn't know you could do that," someone in the hall muttered, but it was silent enough, and the acoustics good enough that everybody heard. Immediately whispers and conversations broke out, some wildly gesticulating toward Jester and the domed ward.

"Enough." The simple command was followed by the Dark Lord's usual method of silencing his followers: a strong, invasive wave of roiling dark magic. Jester just managed to hide her flinch and turned to the Dark Lord, falling to one knee and bowing low.

"Another round of congratulations is due to our Court Jester, it seems," the man mused, still relaxed and looking unfazed on his throne. His eyes were hard and calculating as they looked at her through the swirling wards, though, and Jester winced behind her mask, lowering her eyes to the floor. Maybe she should have just risked attacking Malfoy, if that was the look that she got from her trick.

Slowly the Dark Lord lazily waved his wand, wiping Malfoy's silver signature from the wards, "Tingy." A small house elf appeared in front of the throne with a pop, the same one that had taken Cabrera away. The little creature bowed low, its ears touching the ground.

"What can Tingy be doing for the powerful and great Lord?" its squeaky voice asked, still bowed.

"Take Malfoy to the healing ward, place him in the bed next to Cabrera."

"Yes, powerful Lord," it squeaked again and snapped its fingers, disappearing as fast as it had appeared. Behind her, she heard another pop. Jester didn't dare look behind her, though, and stayed bowed before her lord.

"You may rise, Jester."

She did so. Looking up she found that the Dark Lord was still eyeing her with calculating eyes, but she did her best to ignore it, "Thank you, my Lord," she bowed again.

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully, "Very inventive, my Jester. Most impressive."

Again, she bowed, "My Lord is too kind," she murmured.

"It is only the truth. Now," he exclaimed, "we must continue, and I hope whoever goes next will manage to avoid the wards this time." A thin smile stretched the Dark Lord's lips, and his displeased eyes roved over the mass of Death Eaters. "Who will volunteer?"

The next two duels flew by with Jester using more and more inventive tricks to beat her opponents, but not once after her first duel did she go on the offensive. Not when there was a prevailing undercurrent of smug anticipation that each of her opponents carried, and definitely not when each one got more and more frustrated when she refused to attack. They were waiting for something, and she was not about to easily grant them what they wanted. Not until she figure out what they were up to.

It was hard, though. None of the black-masked Death Eaters was stupid. Some were more powerful than others, and some more intelligent, but all of them were part of the elite for a reason. And to keep their elite spots, they regularly had to defend their positions from the silver-masked Death Eaters –those just below them in rank.

She, however, was allowed the privilege of being able to choose when she wanted to participate in the ranking duels –if she wanted to participate in the ranking duels. And she most definitely did not want to, and so had avoided them since gaining her place as favored Death Eater. Which, in hindsight, was a miscalculation, because she had obviously missed some strategy that the others had developed and practiced while she had continued on, obliviously.

It was now nearing 12 o'clock and was time for the fifth and final duel for the day, and Jester was tired, drained (magically, emotionally, and physically), sore and ready to go to bed. She watched dispassionately as Tingy the house elf disappeared with her last opponent –Antonin Dolohov- and the Dark Lord once again called for a volunteer.

"I will go," a dark baritone called out, and Jester felt herself immediately stiffen, a fresh spike of adrenaline shooting through her system as she turned and stared at the cloaked figure that stepped forward and lowered his hood.

Rabastan Lestrange. The Lestrange family –brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan, and Rodophus' wife Bellatrix- were a family to be wary of just in general, but Rabastan was an internationally known duelist, and the current World Champion in Informal Dueling. Which was exactly what the dueling ranks amongst the Death Eaters was (the opposite of Formal or Traditional Dueling, which took place on a long, thin platform whereon the competitors took turns shielding and casting).

Now, Jester had expected to go up against the youngest Lestrange brother at some point during this ranking match, but dueling and easily defeating (relatively speaking) the last four duelers and lured her into a false sense of security, that today's matches would all be somewhat easy and doable.

"Ah, Rabastan," the Dark Lord straightened on his throne, bored eyes gaining interest as he scanned one of his most loyal and… intense followers. "I was wondering when we would get the pleasure of watching you and our Court Jester square off."

Jester winced behind her mask and slowly stretched out her muscles, eyes still glued to her last opponent. The last time her and the younger Lestrange had 'squared off' was when they had fought for the title of favored, with her coming out on top, but only just barely. She imagined that he was still a bit sore over the loss, and really wasn't looking forward to the next little bit of her life. Not with this man involved.

"It pleases me to please you, My Lord," Rabastan returned smoothly, bowing before their Lord, not even the barest hint of irony in his voice. Jester wondered idly if she could take a nap and eat some lunch before this catastrophe started. Probably not.

* * *

Okay guys, I just have to tell you that, during the scene where Rabastan stepped up as volunteer, "I want it that way" by the Backstreet Boys came on Pandora Radio, and I had to get up and dance around a little bit, and the feeling was just completely ruined. Completely. Just, decimated in the face of the 90's boy band. I can't even –it was glorious, okay? It was one of the best moments of my week, hands down.

Just wanted to give you guys that little bite of my life XP

Now, do you guys remember our motto? **Validation! Support! Ideas! **Guys, it's a beautiful motto, and should be upheld in our highest regards! I'd love to hear from you guys :D Remember: **I'm totally open to whatever clichés you guys would want to see**, and I'd love to hear your ideas on how you'd implement them. For the most part, I've got my ideas down pat, and I really think that they're all original applications of old ideas, but maybe I'd like something one of you said more…? But no, mostly, I'd just love to hear some simple validation, like 'nice work, can't wait to read more!' Trust me; that is more than enough to make me smile for the rest of the day. Or, if you want to go above and beyond the call of duty, constructive criticism is always wonderful and appreciated and loved and used. Don't be shy with it, ya? ;)

Thanks Guys! And once again, a major shout out to my lovely beta: **KumikoPyon**! She's an amazing, patient, and kind person who deserves the world to fall down at her feet, and I'm incredibly lucky to have her as my beta.

Jaye


	3. Chapter 3

As always, a big thanks to my lovely beta: **KumikoPyon**, she's such a sweetheart for putting up with my constant whining and need for attention. Bless her heart. This time I'd also like to thank **Everlude**, one of my (if not _the_) bestest best friends ever and she also puts up with my constant whining and need for attention and graciously looked over my story when I was feeling insecure about the duel. She's awesome. But, really, they're both awesome, and I know such awesome people, and I just bet that you're all jealous ;)

Anyways, off we get!

* * *

A Jester's Court

Chapter Three

_-Anyways, things are going pretty well over on our side. Everyone misses you, though. I guess none of us expected this little venture of yours to take up so much time. It's like, we all just thought that you would, you know, go to your little Death Eater parties, tell us what happened, go to your little Death Eater raids, secretly help out, and just be home the rest of the time, enjoying the fruits of your labor and working on getting that transfiguration mastery that you've always wanted. At the very least we thought that you would still have a normal job outside of Death-Eatering._

_Bit of a pipe dream, eh?_

_Anyways, it's the wife's birthday next Saturday, and we're having a bit of a party for her on Sunday. Will you be able to make it? You know she'd love to have you. And we'd be alright with seeing if you're still alive and not just a ghost writing these letters, as well._

_Don't get too beat up! Your face is too pretty for that nonsense._

_Michael._

_P.S. Trix says hi.'_

_'Michael,_

_Won't be able to make it, groveling to do, people to curse, you know how it is. Tell Daphne that I said 'happy birthday' and I've attached a gift. Picked it up in Magical Rome, I think that it's pretty neat._

_Wish I could write more, but, well… no time for a social life, if that's what you would call this._

_Going crazy, but still yours truly,_

_Harriet._

_P.S. Hey Trix! Don't forget that you're my favorite!_

_P.P.S. Death Eater parties, really?_

_!##!_

_"Ah, Rabastan," the Dark Lord straightened on his throne, bored eyes gaining interest as he scanned one of his most loyal and… intense followers. "I was wondering when we would get the pleasure of watching you and our Court Jester square off."_

_… "It pleases me to please you, My Lord," Rabastan returned smoothly, bowing before their Lord, not even the barest hint of irony in his voice. Jester wondered idly if she could take a nap and eat some lunch before this catastrophe started. Probably not._

The Dark Lord chuckled and slowly rose from his throne, anticipation coating his smile as he glided down from his dais and stepped up to the wards, "Rabastan, step up," he commanded.

The masked Death Eater did as he was bid and placed the tip of his wand against the wards. Once again and for the final time today, Voldemort began to chant and slowly before the Death Eater the wards turned a murky gray.

"Step through."

Jester watched, muscle's tense and hackles rising, as the younger Lestrange brother did as commanded and stepped through the wards, and for the first time since their last duel, their eyes met through the holes in their masks. His eyes were brown, unremarkable except for the sheer amount of malice and insanity in them.

Averting her stare, Jester suppressed a shudder and allowed the adrenaline in her system to take over, falling into a calmer mindset and relaxing slightly, settling into her customary dueling stance –knees slightly bent, right hand (her wand hand) pointed toward her opponent's feet, and non dominant hand relaxed and loosely hanging. She was, if only admitted in her head, slightly intimidated by the younger Lestrange, but it wasn't something that she was going to allow to get in her way or affect her dueling.

Her eyes once again flicked to the two figures that were still bound and kneeling in front of the Dark Lord's raised platform, taking strength and hardening resolve as she took in their pale, bruised forms. No, she wouldn't let some insane, barely-able-to-function-in-normal-society-wizard keep her from her goal, nor would she let some intimidation shake her off her game. She would win this, no matter the cost, and that was it.

The world outside of the domed ward fell away, blurring out as Rabastan Lestrange came into crisper focus for Jester. He was left-handed and never started a duel in any dueling form, but stood tall and proud, feet spread to shoulder width and chin tilted up, looking down on his opponent. At one point, Jester had thought that this meant that he was a poor duelist, but she had been taught differently very quickly.

There was, Jester observed, strength in his stance, even if it wasn't a dueling stance. His feet were firmly grounded, toes pointing toward his opponent (which –interestingly enough- helped with your aim) and his eyes were already calculating, bouncing from where she stood to her surroundings to the ward and back.

Jester had first seen Rabastan Lestrange duel when she had only been a Death Eater for a week, and was participating in her first ranking tournament. She was eighteen at the time, and had been as cocky as all eighteen-year-olds were, even if she hadn't wanted to admit it.

The ranking tournament started off as they all did, with the silver-masked Death Eaters challenging the black-masked Death Eaters, which would be followed by the bronze-masked Death Eaters challenging the silver-masked Death Eaters and then, lastly, the green-masked Death Eaters could challenge the bronze-masked Death Eaters (it was a marked strategy to attack the Death Eaters that had already lost duels and had been demoted –more chance in winning that way).

It was still in the first rounds of dueling, and Jester, with her green mask, had stepped up to the dueling wards that had been set up, having worked her way to the front of the crowd so that she could more clearly see what was going on through the wards. Standing opposite each other was the black-masked Rabastan Lestrange and some silver-masked nobody that she couldn't remember the name of, and was pretty sure head either been killed or captured sometime in the months following that duel.

Back then, Lestrange had been standing just as he was standing now, and Jester remembered scoffing, wondering how someone with such poor form could possibly be a black-mask. When the duel started, though, she had gotten her answer. He wasn't the fastest mover, but his wand was quick, quicker than she had ever seen. He had gotten to the point where his magic was familiar enough to him that he could eliminate half of the wand movements normally needed for spells, and his barrage was nonstop. Within moments he had downed his opponent. Jester couldn't believe it. As if sensing her stare, Lestrange's eyes had swung toward her, meeting her glare head on, and Jester couldn't help but balk at the riotous insanity seen there as she stepped back, loosing herself in the crowds of Death Eaters.

That had been six years ago now, and Jester had come a long way from the arrogant eighteen-year-old she had been, and was now facing Lestrange for the second time since joining the Death Eaters. Funny how life seemed to flow in cycles.

"On my mark," she vaguely heard the Dark Lord call. A moment of silence descended and Jester once again met the eyes of her opponent, this time firmly meeting the stare head on.

"Scared, Jester?" he asked, voice mocking and a sneer curling below the edge of his mask.

"You wish," she murmured to herself, but didn't bother raising her voice enough to let him hear or using magic to push her answer to him.

BANG!

Jester was ready and immediately fired a _bombarda_ at the wizard's feet, taking the offensive for the first time since her first duel. Following her bombard Jester cast a stunner, but instead of letting it leave her wand, she kept it connected and the rest spread into a long string starting at the tip of her wand –the same technique she had used to defeat Malfoy- and extending about five meters in front of her in a bright, red stunning whip.

Testing her whip, she flicked it out to the side, noting with satisfaction that it behaved as a normal whip would, curling in the air before cracking out, quick as lightening, to crack at the ground before recoiling back. Perfect.

Jester directed her attention back to Rabastan just in time to dodge out of the way of a barrage of spells. With quick feet and fast movements she managed to avoid the spells and patiently she waited for her moment. After another quickstep to avoid three more spells –two bone breakers and one that peeled your skin off, yuck- she found her moment as Rabastan pulled his wand back and prepared his next sequence of spells.

Quickly, she flicked her wand, sending her stunner whip through the air and toward her opponent, its bright red tip cracking against the stone where Rabastan had just managed to dodge, leaving a scorched black mark on the ground as it recoiled away. Jester expertly managed the spell whip, gracefully arching it around her body in a quick circle with the momentum from the recoil before flicking it out after her opponent again.

The duel was on.

Rabastan's next move was a loud thunderclap that echoed through the hall that starts a trickle of blood in Jester's left ear, and probably more throughout the audience. Jester retaliated by flicking her spell whip, but this time she disconnected it from her wand, sending the long spell spinning through the air as if she had tossed a rope toward Lestrange. Jester followed with a sledgehammer banisher towards Lestrange's gut. To her surprise, he took it straight on instead of dodging it like he had the stunner. Instantly she felt like she had been punched in the stomach, bending her body in half, her hands on her knees as she coughed up a glob of blood.

What the hell?!

Laughter came from her opponent, and Jester managed to straighten up just in time to get hit with –of all things- a tickling hex. The hex had targeted her abdomen and it immediately sent her to her knees, the spell's original purpose was to stimulate the nerves and create a tickling sensation, but after being hit with or, at the very least, experiencing the after affects of a banisher to the stomach, the stimulation of nerves was more painful than ticklish.

Weakly she managed to roll out of the way of what looked like the slug eating curse (he really was piling it on, wasn't he?) and cast a quick _finite_, ending the tickling hex and rolling onto her feet, dodging more spells as she went.

Jester started when she noticed Lestrange's wand start on a long serious of swishes and flicks. He was now chaining his spells together, combining all of the wand movements and incantations together while holding his magic back before sending them all off at once – a strategy used to overwhelm one's opponent. It was his signature move, from what she observed during his various duels in the international dueling competitions that she had seen.

Quickly her own wand came up and, closing her eyes in preparation, she let off a quick succession of bright lights not unlike a strobe light before sending a spell called _The Rack_ toward him. _The Rack_ was an electricity spell that wasn't just a straight line spell, but took on a horizontal wave, spreading from the wand and going forth until it ran out of power or was stopped. It was not a spell that could be dodged and had to be shielded and something she picked in hopes of interrupting his chain.

Her plan backfired. As soon as _The Rack_ reached him, Lestrange did stop casting, and his aim was definitely off from the blinding strobe light, but instead of her spell affecting him, it once again brought _her_ to her knees with electricity jolting through her body causing her limbs to spasm and a groan to fall from her mouth.

What the actual _fuck_?! What the ever living _hell_?!

Before she even had time to think, his pack of chained spells was on her, and she barely managed to scramble out of the way of some of them, but as she was lunging one caught her left leg tearing a scream from her lips as bright blood burst from the wound.

She had no time though, no time to breath or think or react or panic. She just continued to roll to her feet and fired off a large succession of _avis_ spells, sending the birds after her opponent and nearly collapsing in relief as nothing happened to her when she noticed one of the birds scratching Lestrange before he had the chance to kill it.

Right, then. Avoid direct magical attacks until she knew _what the hell_ was going on. Except for maybe a stunner? He was avoiding that one earlier. Right. No problem. Except that when she stepped forward, wand raised to start casting, her leg buckled and sent her back to the floor.

Jester looked down and grimaced at the mangled mess that was her leg. She cast a quick shield spell that would hopefully hold up before casting a healing spell at her leg, one that would staunch the blood flow and quicken some of the natural healing and got ready to step forward when something odd happened. Magic in her leg –not her magic, but Lestrange's- that was dormant a moment ago woke and _ate_ her healing spell and reopened the gashes.

"What. The. Hell," she hissed. Jester didn't have time for this, though, and instead of trying another healing spell she instead shot an overpowered numbing spell at her leg and hoped that it would hold for longer than the healing spell had managed.

The shielding spell that Jester had cast was called the _mage shield_, a professional dueling level shield that held up against almost all types of spells and physical objects. When she looked up from her leg, she noticed with some satisfaction that it was still holding strong against the brightly colored spells and what looked like pieces of rock being thrown against it.

Looking around, Jester noticed a crater in front of her, which must have been where the rocks were coming from. Some sort of _reducto_ or _bludgeoning_ curse, then. Taking advantage of the material and keeping in mind that direct magical attacks seemed to turn out badly for her, Jester summoned all of the rubble toward her and started to transfigure it into a huge, looming goliath of a golem. It reached about eight feet in height and was big, broad, and bulky. Wonderful.

She sent her creature forward, staying one step behind it as it lumbered toward the wizard across from her. Of course, Rabastan didn't stay in one spot and tried to circle around the creature, firing spells as he did, but Jester was already taking care of that. She cast her own _reducto_s at the floor, gathering more material and transfiguring these ones into sleek, fast footed wolves, sending them to corral Rabastan into one area backed against the wards. She also sent a shield charm, the _mage shield_ again, after her wolves, hoping that that would give them some extra time.

In risk of sounding cliché, it was time to end this.

Keeping in mind (with the wonderful help of her screaming leg) that direct magical attacks seemed to backfire on her, Jester sent out another silent _avis_, directing the small birds to hover, not attack, getting in the way of Lestrange's line of vision and concentration.

After another couple of wolves being sent out as an afterthought, Jester began circling her wand over her head from her place behind her golem while chanting softly in welsh. Keeping a sharp eye on her opponent, Jester felt the soft draft that was in the room before start to pick up, more and more forcibly, centered around her circling wand.

Jester watched as Lestrange continued to struggle in destroying all of her little transfigured friends, the wolves were sleek footed and protected by shields and were managing quite well in corralling the youngest Lestrange brother closer to the wards, while her little birds, quick and small, were darting between his spells to pull at his hair and flutter in front of his face. In the mean time, she and her golem were carefully pressing forward as Lestrange stepped back, and more and more force was being created behind the wind now swirling widely above their heads with great gusts of sound.

Direct offensive magic was great in a duel, but many people forget that it wasn't the only magic that could help you win in a fight, and Jester was going to show Rabastan Lestrange exactly why she had gained her position, even though he was the one with a Mastery in dueling.

"_Masteries in transfiguration are just as good_," she thought, allowing a smirk to quirk her lips. Jester watched with eager eyes as Rabastan took another step back, putting himself perilously close to the domed wards, "_May these fools never get smarter._"

With a quick flick of her wand, Jester sent the howling wind above her head straight toward her opponent, watching as he was lifted from his feet and battered against the wards, the magic immediately reacting to contain her wind and suck in Lestrange's magic.

As Rabastan sunk to the floor, Jester allowed herself to relax, absently flicking her wand as she brought it to her side, undoing her transfigurations and turning them back into stone rubble. Another flick and a silent _reparo_ had the rubble rushing back to their original places and seamlessly sealed back together.

It was done.

The lowering of the Dueling Ward brought with it a rush of noise from the watching audience and with that noise, the adrenaline left Jester's system, causing her to sag and flinch from exhaustion and the pain in her leg as she slowly turned toward her Lord.

Voldemort, meanwhile, had risen from his throne and was standing at the edge of the dais, an unreadable look on face as he surveyed the unconscious Lestrange and the bloodied Court Jester.

"Once again," his voice rose sibilantly over the crowd, immediately silencing his followers, "we have had the pleasure of seeing why my Jester has earned her spot at my side." The Dark Lord smoothly descended the steps from the dais, cloak flaring slightly behind him as he made his way to his highest ranking Death Eater.

Jester slowly fell to her knees as her master approached, lowering her head and laying her palms flat on her thighs, a gesture of complete respect and submission. The Dark Lord stopped a pace away from her and slowly extended a hand, caressing the edge of her mask with long, graceful fingers.

"Congratulations, my Jester, you may collect your prize and leave," he gave her a hard stare, his eyes quickly darting down to her leg with a half-smile quirked on his lips, "We'll see you tomorrow at breakfast." It was an order.

Jester bowed her head lower and barely managed to hold in her scream of agony as she rose from her position before the Dark Lord, gritting her teeth before relaxing into the pain of having to put weight on her mangled leg, hoping that accepting the pain would make it easier to live with. Slowly she walked over to the prostate form that was Lily Potter who, despite having her bounds removed, had stayed kneeling on the floor, head downcast and red hair hiding her expression, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.

"Come," Jester grunted once she was standing in front of the witch. No reaction. Jester gritted her teeth harder. She didn't want to force the women, didn't want to have to act like the Death Eater she was with this women, never with this women, but she really didn't have a choice. Her leg was killing her, perhaps literally, and she just didn't have the luxury of time to sit here and wait for Lily Potter to come with her willingly.

Decision made, Jester silently cast an imperious curse on the women and felt as it settled, surprised at how easy it was. "Get up," she ordered; watching with unease as the women stood, "you will follow two paces behind me, and one pace to my left."

Order received, Jester turned and walked as gracefully from the hall as she could, ignoring the eyes of her fellow Death Eaters as she did. She, however, had a harder time ignoring James Potter as he yelled at her under the silencing charm that was still in place. Honestly, this whole thing was just going to give her nightmares and fodder for therapy sessions for years to come.

Once outside of the hall, Jester turned left and swiftly stalked down the hall to the rooms she normally stayed in. Sweat was beading at her brow and her leg positively screamed in pain, but she continued to move quickly. If she stopped, even for a second, she wouldn't be able to keep going and being helpless and in pain on the floor in the Dark Lord's main stronghold with at least forty of his top followers –all black and silver masked- surrounding her was not a position she was willing to be in.

So she ignored the pain as best she could, ignored the ever growing weight in her arms and head, the cotton that was building in her mind and just continued to walk, trusting her imperio to keep her new slave (and how that thought disgusted her!) behind her and to her left, as was ordered.

The two ladies traveled swiftly through the halls, Jester taking as many shortcuts as she knew until they finally reached her rooms. Jester leaned against the thick wooden door as she opened it, almost falling through the entrance and stumbling over to her couch where she collapsed, head thrown back on one arm of the chair and legs sprawled over the other one, arms crossed over her chest.

She was vaguely aware of Lily Potter coming to a stop by the couch, _imperio_ed mind not making sense of the situation. How do you stay behind someone and to their left when they are sprawled with their back against a couch? Jester snorted and released the spell, past caring at this point.

She just wanted to sleep.

* * *

Soo… sorry? Ya, NaNoWriMo was a complete bust, thank you university :/ I just didn't have time for much more than sleeping, eating, going to class, and studying. And I really don't actually know when/if things will calm down before summer break (I'm going to Florida for Christmas break, so who knows if I'll feel like writing? Or maybe I'll write a chapter a day? We'll see!). School's just…. A big priority, and unfortunately, fanfiction doesn't really compete.

(On that note, anyone else with me that NaNoWriMo should be in like…June? I have so much more time in June… maybe that's when I'll do it anyway, no more of this November crap.)

That being said, my goal will be to write at least two chapters a month. Hopefully more, but ya, that's all I'm going to promise for right now XD

Heyheyhey, did you guys notice my Malfoy/Potter dueling moment? I laughed. Totally. Just, I couldn't _not_ do it, ya know?

Mmm, alright everyone, repeat after me: Our motto is Validation! Support! Ideas! Wooo!

Welp, hope everybody had a happy Thanksgiving (even if you don't celebrate it) and that everyone has fun plans for the upcoming holidays! 'Til next time!

SeeJaye

PS: Hey, if any of you have wonderful summary ideas, I'd love to hear them. I'm never happy with my own….


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